The Great Depression

Sunday nights are busy around here. The big kids and the Man do Awana (a church club), and the wee ones and I usually go to the grocery store (if I’m in a very brave mood, and can time it just right)…or we stay home and nap. Tonight, the planets were in alignment. We had all had a nap, I had finished feeding the baby, and I had a meal plan and a grocery list made. So we headed out to the store. The very happy thing about this is that tomorrow, I can be a pj wearing homebody, and won’t have to go anywhere. Yahoo! I think an iced coffee and some oatmeal scones are in order.

So I get home just in time to feed the baby, and then the fam comes in and unloads groceries for me to put away. As I’m loading things into the fridge I notice that we’re out of cheese slices. Drats.

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Confession time: “Hi I’m Gwen, and I’m a food hoarder.”
It’s a bad habit which has grown out of my strong desire to go to the grocery store as little as possilbe. And a wee tiny bit because I just love food. But that’s not the point of this post.

The point is…we had no sliced cheese.

My man had just grilled out burgers and used up the final few slices of cheese the night before.
We have what I thought was a solemn and airtight agreement that if you use something up, it gets written on the grocery list.
Which it wasn’t.

So the following dialogue ensues, in a normal tone of voice, between the Man and I:

Me: “I didn’t know we were out of sliced cheese.”
Him: “I didn’t either. Don’t you usually keep extra packs in the fridge downstairs?”
Me: “I don’t have any down there.”
Him: “We have a block of cheese. We can just cut slices.”
Me: “Yeah, I just need to know when things get used up.”
Him: “It’ll be OK. You’re not in the Great Depression.”

At which time, my oldest boy…
this, clever soul, without missing a beat, says to his Dad:

“Now she is.”

I am still laughing!

***Update*** I’m ashamed to say that YES. I did have another package of sliced cheese in the back of the fridge. I found it the next day. Don’t tell the Man. 😉